Pokemon

They are everywhere. I see people on street corners twisting around in awkward acrobatics with their cellphones. Kids. Teenagers. Grown men. Grown women. I saw a smart looking woman with a cane aiming her phone at a tree behind the library.

It’s in the newspaper. It’s on the evening news. Accidents. People running into trees – banging their heads, stepping off curbs – twisting ankles, maybe driving and having fender benders. Not me though. I wouldn’t do such a thing.

But, I asked Little J about it and got a tutorial over dinner in a restaurant last night. Yes, we are a family that brings out cell phones at the dinner table. Once in a while. There just happened to be one of those creatures out the window. We nabbed him. We made Grandpa drive home, slowly, so we could nab everyone between the restaurant and our house.

I’m not going to play this game. I refuse to let it eat up my memory, use up my data plan, and drain my battery. I’m just not going to do it. It’s childish. It’s a fad. Everyone is doing it.

Driving home from work this evening, I sense there might be one of them in my car. I turn on the game. Eek… what’s that flapping its wings on my turn signal?